


Dangers of the mind

by MarvelousWonders



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Past Rape/Non-con, Prostitution, Psychometry, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelousWonders/pseuds/MarvelousWonders
Summary: Quinlan has been on a downward spiral. His psychometry damaging his mind more and more, not realizing what is happening. His chosen method of rescuing his long-time friend finally draws the eyes of the jedi council onto the developing problem.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Quinlan Vos/Other(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Dangers of the mind

Sometimes sacrifices were necessary. Especially when it came to winning the war, but always, always to save a friend. That didn’t make his current situation any easier to bear, but at least there was a purpose behind it. 

A reason for walking willingly into the lair of their enemy, for putting a hold on his own mission and for giving up one other piece of himself. For dressing in loose and too revealing clothes, wearing cheap perfume and thick make-up, highlighting his cheekbones and reddening his lips. 

Not even knowing if his plan would work, if spreading his legs would be the key to saving Obi-Wan from the mess he and his padawan had gotten themselves and their troopers into. Or if it would be all for nothing, if he would have to try a far riskier maneuver and leave their survival up to the force.

His hands were shaking. Not much, just barely noticeable, but a tell was a tell and he couldn’t risk them so much as suspecting that he was more than he appeared. More than a simple whore that had been down on his luck, behind on paying his debts. Desperation driving him to accept even the worst of clients, the ones no one else would take for fear of never being seen or heard from again. The ones with a reputation of being brutal, of not paying the money for services taken, for being unpredictable. The ones that nearly overwhelmed him with the images his psychometry read off of them. 

These people would be even worse. Separatists with a long history of dealing with the Sith, of engaging in war crimes so horrible that even other big-name criminals tried to avoid them.

A deep breath. Another and another. This wasn’t the time for fear. 

They were watching him.

Waiting for him to get on with it, to entertain them. And if he would fail to provide it, they would take it on their own. As was fair, for they had been kind enough to pick him up out of the dirt his last client had thrown him into as they had not so gently reminded him.

He slipped out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor carelessly. Undoing his pants and letting them slide down, standing naked in front of the group that were threatening to kill his best friend. The group that had announced the planned public execution of their captives yesterday. An execution that would be carried out on the next day, if Quinlan failed to accomplish his goal.

Walking into the middle of the group, slinging his arms around the neck of the tallest of them, placing light kisses onto his throat.

“Who wants to fuck me first?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

He awoke slowly. Not daring to move a muscle, he pushed his headache away and focused on counting the number of people breathing heavily in their sleep.   
Nine, ten, eleven… all of them where there, very obviously not waking soon, judging from the strength of their snores. So the sleeping powder mixed into their drinks had actually worked. Or it was just the sheer mass of alcohol they had consumed, either was possible. 

Blinking his eyes open, he took a moment to orient himself. He was laying on a table, covered in booze and bodily fluids. Very much not where he had fainted, when the pain and the imprints of his psychometry got too much for him. For the third time in the same night. They must have had moved and kept on fucking him during his unconsciousness.

Carefully, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Later, there would be time (and need) to process everything that had happened. For now, he needed to find Obi-Wan and ensure their escape.

He eased back onto his feet, stifling a groan at the pain that shot through his back. Time was of the essence. He needed to get moving and do it fast. Clamping down on any involuntary noises he might be making, he started walking. The first few steps were uncoordinated but they grew steadier, surer of the ability that he could keep his body upright. 

He walked straight past his clothes, knowing he would not be able to bend down to pick them up and get them on without running the risk of wasting far too much time. 

Stepping through the door and then following the hallway deeper into the base and down the stairs. Guided by the force and the knowledge gained from painful experience that prisoners were usually kept somewhere it would be hard to escape from.

The basement was a good place to put them, the long staircase making him light-headed and nearly loose his footing on the uneven steps. Resting his body for a moment on the wall, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to get his heartbeat to calm down. A mistake, but a good one, because he was immediately assaulted by the image of Obi-Wan being dragged down the stairs, together with his men and his former padawan. He didn’t seem to be hurt, calmly listing the reasons why this was a bad idea. 

The relive was a welcome source of strength to push off of the wall and keep moving downwards. After twenty more steps, he could hear people talking in the distance. 

Downwards, downwards, hand trailing on the wall to keep himself upright, he closed in on them. His heavy steps echoing on the stairs warning them ahead of time of their visitor.

Taking the last step, he collected himself. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and putting a winning smile on his face he rounded the corner.

“What mess did you get yourself into this time? And you always complain that I’m the trouble magnet!”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and this is my first fic in years.  
> Critic is always welcome :)


End file.
